Closer
by thisisironic
Summary: It's the end of the day and Claire still hasn't gotten to blow out any candles.


**Title:** Closer  
**Author:** Emilie  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, and my empty pockets are proof of no profit.  
**Characters:** Peter Petrelli and Claire Bennet  
**Table/Prompt:** Table 4, Prompt 12 (Laughter).  
**Word Count:** 1,479  
**Summary:** (AU: Peter and Claire aren't related). It's the end of the day and Claire still hasn't gotten to blow out any candles.  
**Author's Notes:** I made a Peter/Claire mix and I actually thought, "Hmm, I should try and use each of these songs to create a fic." I basically just had _Closer_ by Travis playing on repeat while writing this. Peter/Claire as each other's support is something that'll never get old for me.

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Claire's room was small but homey, a sanctuary of sorts she could escape to at the end of a day where she convinced everybody she was fine but once the door closed, the tears would come. It was a place Peter still hadn't quite gotten comfortable entering, even if she insisted on allowing him to come in as he pleased. It wasn't a room of royalty, forbidden to those deemed unworthy, but it certainly felt like that every time he knocked on the door and stepped inside; like he should look around, take in the sight of how Claire looked among her belongings and in the comfort of her own bedroom, just in case he never got to see it again.

This time when he walked in, the sun had set and the only light in the room was the soft luminescence of the lamp on her bedside table. She was in comfortable, end-of-the-day clothes, absently fixing her watch (which some jerks face broke) near the window beside her bed. Her favorite shirt lay on the chair near her, the creamy white fabric stained red around a hole near the abdomen. Right where the bullet hit.

She'd gotten good at getting over dying and suffering injuries; wiping away the blood and spitting up the lead like it was as big of a deal as a piece of hair in her mouth. He didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing and he'd never know if her own indifference bugged her too; she wouldn't ever complain about anything to him if it involved being serious. Considering what day it was, he had no problem convincing himself of that.

Either she hadn't heard him knock and step inside, lost in looking--searching, maybe--for whatever it was outside the window, or she was simply content with the silence between them. Only Peter knew that they could do better, that he came into her room for a reason. So he finally broke the silence with a soft greeting. "Hey."

She didn't look over her shoulder at him, but he could hear a small lift in her voice when she said 'hey' back.

"Long day, huh?"

"You're tellin' me." Exhaustion drained any humor from the small laugh under her breath. "We got the guy, though, which is good."

"Yeah," Peter nodded. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "The day isn't over yet, though."

She didn't look away from the window, her back still to him. If the lamp beside her bed turned off, the moonlight would surely illuminate the room enough to see everything just as much. It was full and luminous, hypnotizing almost; maybe that's what she was looking at. "Almost."

Peter cleared his throat again. "Um...Claire?"

"Yeah?" He could see her catching his reflection in the window and he could see her eventually notice the small flame in his hands issuing a sphere of orange glow. When she turned around to face him, she could finally see the cupcake he held in his hands, with a single candle poking out. Eyes looked up and down, from the cupcake to Peter and back again.

All Peter could do was smile at her. "Happy Birthday."

She looked down at her feet, but not in time to hide the tears in her eyes. Peter stepped forward, anxiously reaching a hand out before pulling it back and waiting. Barely a moment later, she lifted her head and met his eyes, an ebullient smile on her lips. Positively joyous, even as she stuttered back at him. "I--with everything that's been going on, I wasn't expecting--"

"You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

"There were more important things going on. I didn't want to--"

"You didn't wanna let your birthday be a burden?" Peter finished for her, shaking his head vehemently at the confirmation in the way her eyes shyly glanced away. "You're eighteenth birthday, and any other one for that matter, is _not_ a burden."

"Eighteen," she sighed wistfully. Peter looked at her, unblinking, nodding ever so slightly, inviting her to keep smiling. And she did, gently swiping a little frosting off of the cupcake with her pinky. "I don't feel any older."

He didn't bother to hide his relief at the glitter in her eyes. "You got a litter taller." He held a hand over her head. "Maybe by the time you're twenty you might not have to sit in a booster seat anymore."

She smacked his arm.

"Hey, careful," he pretend to almost drop the cupcake. "This took a lot of time to bake."

She licked the frosting off her pinky, raising her eyebrows up at him. "You baked _one_ cupcake?"

Peter relented, shrugging as he lifted it up between them. "There's another seventeen in the kitchen. Make a wish."

Smiling from ear to ear, she closed her eyes and thought for only a moment before taking a big breath and blowing out the candle. He took it out and handed her the cupcake, which she gingerly took with both of her hands before promptly taking a huge bite out of it.

After a minute, once she'd swallowed the first bite, she fixed Peter with a look. "Don't you wanna know what I wished for?"

"No, 'cause then it won't come true."

"Unless Hiro finally gives in to my bugging and lets me time-jump with him, I don't think it'll be coming true either way." She licked her lips as she continued on. "I...wished I was turning twenty-one so you could take me out for a drink."

Peter laughed, "What is it with people wishing they could be older? Soon you'll be going on thirty and you'll wish you were eighteen again."

"Well, it's more about the ability to go into a bar without being carded that I'm wishing for."

Again, Peter held his hand just over her head. "Trust me, Claire, you'll always be carded."

And again, she smacked his arm. "It's not my fault I'm vertically challenged."

"You're right," Peter shoved his hands into his pockets. "Like I said before, the day's not over with. Anything you wanna do?"

"Like what? I'm eighteen so..." She took another bite and swallowed as she thought it over. "You can take me to vote."

"We can waste money on a bunch of lottery tickets, followed by a rated R movie."

"I can smoke, too."

Peter made a face, shaking his head. "Please don't."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like it'll kill me."

"Yeah but healing factor or no healing factor, you'd still have bad breath."

"I can use it to ward off predators," she shot back.

"Can't argue with that." Comfortable silence followed until he eagerly inquired some more. "Seriously, though, is there anything you wanna do?" For the first time since he walked into the room, he tore his eyes away from her. "There's been a lot of stuff going on lately and I feel like..."

She tilted her head to try and catch his gaze. "Like what?"

"Like you're eighteen and you don't get to act like it," he admitted. "I want you to have fun; both of us...before it's to the point where we don't know what fun is."

"We can just...go out?" Claire looked over her shoulder, out the window and across the city skyline. "It's the city, it'd be impossible for us to not find something fun to do."

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "Okay, we can do that." He held out his hand. "Let's."

Claire took his hand, but he was only two steps out of her room before she stopped him. He turned back to face her but before he could ask why she was stopping, she leaned against him, standing on her tip-toes, and touched her lips to his cheek. So dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, Peter's stomach tightened and he closed his eyes for the small moment where her body was against his and he could feel for the first time in a while how happy she was. And when she pulled away, beautiful amber eyes looking up at him, he knew she was thankful before she even said it.

"Thanks, Peter."

He swallowed and nodded, forgetting how to speak for a moment. What felt like an hour passed before Claire shifted the situation again. Whether she was aware of the moment as well wasn't quite clear, but thankfully she erased any tension in the air by playfully nudging his chest with her shoulder. "You gonna take me out for a night on the town or what?"

_fin_


End file.
